


a raw thing

by HiddenEye



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A little bit of Captive Prince AU, Canon Universe, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Master/Pet, Mutual Pining, Overstimulation, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Post-Season/Series 06, Touching, Undercover Missions, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 09:49:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18029408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenEye/pseuds/HiddenEye
Summary: “I’m going to sit on your lap,” Shiro informs him quietly. Keith sucks in a breath, a sound that has delight crackling on Shiro’s nape. “They need a queue. It looks as if they’re waiting for us to do something before they’d come over.”





	a raw thing

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something-something. This is un-beta’d, by the way, but I hope you’ll enjoy it!

“We should’ve just find another planet.”

“Be reasonable,” Shiro murmurs from the corner of his mouth, cutting the piece of food that looks remarkably like cheese, only greener, with grains embedded into its body that gives out a crunchy sound the moment the knife goes through.

“I _am_ being reasonable,” Keith grills back in a hushed voice, clearly agitated, but he still carries himself with what title he’s dressed into; a Lord of sorts, a Prince, maybe. Shiro can’t help but admire how the string of laces running down his front is snug against his chest, with breaches accenting those mile-long legs as Keith lounges with the same accuracy any fat cat might have. And when he slashes his gaze to Shiro, it’s adding coal to his hearth of interest. “They’re shameless. How are we supposed to find what we need if all they ever do is throw themselves at each other?”

The thin chains tinkle under his chin as Shiro reaches across the table for the small bowl. It makes the silk cloth he wears around his waist shift the slightest bit, exposing more of his thighs and attracting a nearby customer’s attention, who’s alone and nursing their drink with beady eyes trained on Shiro.

Shiro ignores them, letting the burn of Keith’s glare do the job for him as he spreads the white paste against the slices of cheese-like food. It’s hard, when all he has is one hand, but he makes do, trying to be as graceful as possible. “We will. It’s going to take some time, but it’s not like they can be sober forever.” Shiro sees how trays of kale are being distributed around by the waiter. “We just need to find someone who has a lower status than you.”

Keith grunts softly, deliberately holding onto the end of the chain from where it’s resting by his elbow. “A drunk Lord. I can’t wait. I was hoping we’d have more options than that.”

“We’re running out of food, and the lions need some rest.” Shiro eyes the way Keith has it in his palm, gold winking back at Shiro under the dim light that’s been situated above their heads. It’s almost as strategic as it can get; they’re the only two humans there, pale, little hair, shorter than most. If they’re not careful, someone’s going to notice how these two humans are going to be connected to Voltron. “This happened to be the nearest stop before the next planet, which would take us another week. We don’t have that kind of time.”

When Shiro brings the food he’s made near Keith’s mouth, Keith simply stares at him, expression as unimpressed as any master could be when their pet is trying to feed him. But, his eyes sear right into the middle of Shiro’s chest, impaling and twisting deep.

It shouldn’t make him react so much.

After everything, after being ripped out from what control Haggar had on him, the detachment of having one’s body back after spending a year as nothing but a wispy form makes the air above his skin stretch and fizzle, to the point Shiro has to calm himself down and force himself to accommodate with the foreign feeling. It’s to smell and to breathe again, to touch and have something to hold onto, and fear lingers under the impression that his conscious might have forgotten how to do that.

It has taken him a couple of days to wake up fully, to actually stand up and walk around as he lets familiarity of feeling run through his veins. It’s another a week after that when they find this planet and decided to drop down, because the lions aren’t exactly in good shape after that battle with Lotor, and their resources dwindle to the point they’ve become dangerously low when half of it is wrecked due to the collisions they’ve suffered from the fight.

The planet they’ve landed on consists of a culture where it’s normal for the high status to have someone hanging onto their arms, showing off their special commodity in lavish clothes and bejewelled stones. Their economy is ridiculously sufficient to the point where the word ‘poor’ doesn’t exist; everyone is rich, or more than well-off, and most of them would have an equally expensive companion who chooses to become pampered with such attention.

It’s a mutual relationship. They prefer themselves to be called companions, pets even, rather than slaves — to be submissive with the person who’s paid them to be with their new master. This master would treat them well, lavish them with attention and wealth that make their companions love it, soaking in everything with a little twirl of their hips or a smirk to charm the people around them. These people, in return, would compliment the master. If they’re generous, master and master would switch their pets between themselves for a night, having them the way they want it to.

While affection isn’t something they shy away from, sex isn’t far off either. There are rooms for that, put in every building that it reeks of sweaty bodies and come every time a couple is done with their arrangement. Both Shiro and Keith have the honours of seeing a glimpse of those who didn’t make into one of the rooms in time.

From how they wear those glittering cuffs and collars, Shiro would’ve paid off every debt he would think off if they can bring the jewels back to Earth. He’d be a free man on his own planet.

The team suggested that landing on this planet, Xyeeria, consists of blending in and becoming one of them. Play off as one of the Lords or Ladies would be enough, have someone to become their pet as they sway around the crowd to draw enough attention for them to ask questions. About resources, food and drinks, some directions if they’re helpful since the solar system they’re in is hardly recognisable after being randomly slingshot out of the realm Lotor has wrenched open.

“A pet,” Allura continues from her side of the feed. “Is to comply whatever their master tells them to do. You have to be pliant, willing, and not cause a fuss. The master shouldn’t be forceful and be gentle with them. These Xyeerians repel to the thought of violence, and their police forces are strict with their laws. If anything out of ordinary happens, they won’t hesitate to take you to court.”

“Jesus,” Lance mutters. “I have some questions, though. Which one of us is going to be the master and who’s going to be the pet?”

There’s silence, one that seems to hang heavily above their heads before Shiro peers over Keith’s shoulder, enough for the team to have a clear sight of his face. “I’ll do it.”

Keith snaps his head around to look at him properly, incredulous. It’s understandable. Shiro needs more rest, but he also needs a distraction, to do something instead of hanging back. This mission won’t be using any physical strain, it’ll be perfect for him to contribute.

Everyone shares the same sentiment as Keith, so it seems. Pidge leans against her console. “What, as the master?”

Shiro takes a breath. “No.”

There’s more silence after that, and at this point Shiro doesn’t meet both Keith and Krolia in the eye, only clutching on the back of the pilot’s chair.

In the end, Keith nods. “I’m coming with you.”

Both of them have never talked about what happened on that base. The memory of their screams and the airborne feeling of falling through the screeching air still clutches onto his bones that has Shiro bringing them to his dreams, where it’s more vivid there, going down through the same road for the past few days since he’s been awake.

And as Shiro watches the way Keith leans forward and takes a bite of the food he’s hold up, Shiro knows keeping this away any longer would cause something destructive. He doesn’t want that to happen again.

“We can spare some for this, at least,” Keith says once he swallows, reaching forward for his goblet. “No point by just sitting around and do nothing when we should’ve done _something_.”

“We are doing something.” Shiro minutely shifts in his seat, the crystal earrings he borrows from Allura swaying under his movements. “We’re working.”

“I feel like we’re wasting time,” Keith growls lightly, and he doesn’t react this time when Shiro feeds him another piece before popping another one into his own mouth. “It’s just— I’m only sitting here, waiting for someone to come over while you’re used as bait.”

Shiro shrugs. “Not the first time that’s happened.”

Keith shoots him a wane look. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s not,” Shiro agrees, noticing another pair of eyes watching them from the booth nestled near drawn window. The Xyeerian is leaned back into the velvet plush of the sofa, the beautiful dark ember of their skin covered in clothes that shows where they stand in this country, rose gold gleaming on the stripes that settle on their shoulders. “But, those are the facts.”

The Xyeerian looks pleased in how they manage to catch Shiro’s attention, leaning to the side to speak into their companion’s ear, hand planted on the slope of the pet’s back. It’s watching the way their pet perks up from whatever it is that the Xyeerian said, snapping his eyes towards Shiro while his master continues to speak to him with pretty words of promises, slowly assessing Shiro in the slow drag of his eyes.

Checkmate.

“Hey,” Shiro calls softly, letting his hand rest onto Keith’s inner elbow. “I found someone.”

Keith stiffens, before forcing himself to relax as he answers Shiro touch with a slight tilt of his head. “Think they’ll be able to talk?”

“From how both of us are being ogled, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” Shiro graces Keith with a flirtatious smile in order to put up a show, all dimples that Shiro knows have been his ticket into making people falter in what they’ve been doing. Keith’s used to it, seen it at work for far too many times to be affected by its charm anymore. “If we’re lucky, we wouldn’t use the barter system in order to get what we want, and then I wouldn’t feel like cow meat.”

“There’s always negotiating.” Keith only lets one corner of his mouth to quirk up as he plays along, and it makes air stuck in Shiro’s chest at how achingly handsome his best friend has become. Age has sharpened the lines of his jaw, grown his hair until it frames his face. It’s unbecoming. “They can’t force us, though. Unlike Earth, consent plays a bigger role here. Death penalty’s on the table the moment it’s coerced.”

“That’s the dream.” When Shiro takes a peek at the other table, he’s able to see how both master and pet are still staring at them, curious on their conversation. It gives him an idea. “Do you trust me?”

It pulls a rumble of chuckles from Keith. “What kind of question is that?”

The response is softer than Shiro would expect, making him pause for a moment as he studies the look Keith gives him, wielding and patient. And then, Shiro lets his hand trail down to touch his wrist, leaning more into Keith’s personal place that the man blinks in surprise.

“I’m going to sit on your lap,” Shiro informs him quietly. Keith sucks in a breath, a sound that has delight crackling on Shiro’s nape. “They need a queue. It looks as if they’re waiting for us to do something before they’d come over.”

“Like we need to prove ourselves to them.”

“Yeah.” Shiro sees how Keith glances up, just to make a point by making eye contact with them. “I’m going to sit on your lap, and I need you to do it by pulling this.”

Shiro taps a finger onto the side of Keith’s hand, the one that’s still holding onto the chain, and away from the Xyeerian’s gaze.

Keith locks his jaw, tightening his hold on the chain. “You’re sure about this?”

“If we want to get out of here early, then yes, I’m sure.” Shiro hesitates then, a flicker of doubt alight in his sternum. “Unless you’re not comfortable with this?”

As a response, Keith gives the chain a soft tug, one that’s enough for Shiro to feel the way the collar digs around his neck as he gasps softly at the slight restriction.

He tilts his head back, baring the long column of his throat, an act of submission in itself.

A good pet to a good master.

A shadows falls over those eyes, and Keith pulls Shiro in that he follows without restraint, half of his body almost sprawled on Keith if it isn’t for the way Shiro clutches onto the edge of the table to hold himself up.

“I’m going to touch you,” Keith warns him, and there’s no hesitation in the way Shiro nods.

When the first touch of Keith’s warm palm makes contact with his skin, Shiro stutters in a breath, feels how those long fingers hold onto his side before they slide lower, fluttering against the muscled curve of his thigh.

Shiro feels the way Keith breathes against his cheek, sees how he looks up to the Xyeerian again.

Encouraged, giddy in a way one would when committing a crime, Shiro slides in nearer, causing Keith to let out a small, “ _Fuck_.” as Shiro swings a leg with one languid move to straddle Keith, the silk clothing almost hiking up from how he’s adjusting to what space that’s enough to hold them both. It’s having his knees dig into the plush seat underneath them, it’s having Shiro hover above Keith rather than to sit on him like he initially says.

Keith grips onto the back of his thighs and pulls Shiro closer, digits digging into his skin while Keith lifts his head to watch him, to watch Shiro as he balances himself with a hand on Keith’s shoulder as Shiro holds onto his look, shameless.

Shiro feels heat scalding down his cheeks and the tip of his ears, no doubt looking as red as Keith is as blown eyes look up at him, swallowing the purples to the point they’ve become identical thin rings.

It’s maddening. Whatever they’re doing is for the sake of their mission, but their encounter from the base is still too soon, the intensity it carries still weighs heavily in their hearts while they do _this_. Touching each other. Having the other in their arms. As if every contact isn’t fire.

It’s trying to swallow the heavy breathing down, staying the way they are as they stare at each other, waiting.

Until, Keith drags his fingers down his leg, little touches that almost has Shiro quivering under his advances at how it burns through his skin, lighting up every nerve until the frayed ends combust with a cloud of dark need.

Shiro lets his forehead rest onto Keith’s shoulder, breathing in slowly, hand swiping down the length of his arm. “Are they watching?”

“Yeah.” Keith murmurs, lips almost brushing against the shell of his ear.

And then, Keith touches his side again, his palm pressed steadily just above his ribs, before they travel lower, and stopping just above his abdomen with a splay of his hand. It’s having Keith’s other hand letting go of the chain and instead let it rest on his thigh, the place where the cloth is split at the sides, threatening to reveal the curve of his ass, and Shiro isn’t able to stop the soft whimper that escapes from his lips.

“Don’t do that,” Keith whispers sharply, voice shaking, clutching onto Shiro with a desperation that seeps into Shiro’s own flesh. “Don’t do that. _Please_.”

Shiro doesn’t, sinking his teeth into the flush of his bottom lip to keep himself quiet, nails digging deeper into the meat of Keith’s shoulder as Shiro pushes his forehead into Keith’s instead.

And then, it’s feeling the way fingers hold onto his chin with a loose grip, lifting his head so that Shiro is able to see Keith, to see how the raw _want_ is so bright in those eyes until he’s shuddering, feels the way it crawls down his spine.

He’s bared like this. So exceptionally naked under Keith’s attention. Shiro relishes on it.

It’s having Keith, daring and wonderful Keith, to press his lips right at the middle of his chest, a searing claim of ownership.

Shiro doesn’t stop the small keen that escapes, back bowing, pushing himself more into Keith as the man clutches on his waist as if Shiro is the very last livelihood of letting him survive.

What would people think? What would they say when they see Shiro, all of his glory stripped down to _this?_ Putty in the hands of the man he’s come to terms as the love of his life, who has saved him through the expanse of the galaxy time and time again.

Shiro’s grateful. After all that has led him to this, to _them,_ he’s grateful.

And he won’t ever let it slip through his fingers again.

“That’s not fair,” Shiro gasps out, shoving his face into Keith’s neck, hears the way Keith groans as arms snake around Shiro in a possessive grip, pulling him nearer than they already are, molding them together as one. “That’s fucking cheating. You got mad at me for doing anything, but _you_ can?” Shiro swallows thickly, catching his breath. “God.”

“Sorry,” Keith mumbles, clearly unapologetic.

Shiro scoffs, lifts his head enough to drag his lips up Keith’s neck, pressing them firmly into his ear. “We need to talk about this.”

“We need to talk about a lot of things,” Keith counters as Shiro pushes his face into Keith’s neck again, trying to take a breather after all of _that_ happened in such an agonisingly short time. “I’ve lost two years on that whale. I need to catch up. But, for now?” Keith turns his head, one hand cupping the short hairs of his buzzcut, the tip of his nose brushing against Shiro’s. “We have company.”

Shiro wants to move, to appear as decent as he can be, but Keith bumps his nose into his again, stopping him when the hand slides up to tangle in his hair.

“Wait,” Keith whispers, and Shiro freezes out of habit, before letting himself relax when a thumb brushes on the soft skin behind his ear.

There’s footsteps, two pair of them, before a voice, deep and sure, speaks.

“Hello.”


End file.
